


The Color of the Night

by Dixie



Category: Fringe
Genre: F/M, Gen, SPOILERS for 5.04
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-25
Updated: 2012-10-25
Packaged: 2017-11-17 01:24:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/546013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dixie/pseuds/Dixie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>MAJOR SPOILER for 5.04.   Peter and Olivia</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Color of the Night

**Author's Note:**

> One more time - this contains references that are spoilers for 5.04
> 
> As always, all props to Beta Extraordinaire (and new AO3 author!) OConnellaboo. We laugh together, we cry together, we write crazy stories together - what better friend could I have?

 

* * *

_Cause all I want is just once, forever and again_

_I’m waiting for you, I’m standing in the light_

_But you hide behind the color of the night._

_Please come out from the color of the night._

-          _Lauren Christy_

He was sitting on what remained of a concrete retaining wall behind their lodging for the night, staring out into the blackness and drinking what passed for alcohol.  It tasted like anti-freeze (or what he imagined antifreeze would taste like) and he hoped it would kill him… or at the very least, make him numb. 

The downside to having a 190 IQ was that his mind flew through every permutation of every event of the last 24 hours, over and over.  _What if, what if, what if….._  No wonder Walter went mad.

He took another swig and grimaced involuntarily as the liquid burned his throat.  Another swig, too much too fast, and he choked.  A fit of coughing masked the sound of Olivia’s footsteps on the gravel and broken glass littering the alley.

When Olivia gently touched his shoulder, he jumped up and whirled around, ready to run – or fight.  Seeing that it was Olivia, his shoulders slumped and he sat down wordlessly.

She sat down next to him, and he offered the bottle.  When she shook her head, he took another swig, draining the bottle, and threw it carelessly against the building. The sound of breaking glass echoed in the stillness.

“Does it help?” she asked in a low voice.

His hands clenched into fists; he didn’t look up, but shook his head.  “Nothing helps,’ he replied after a long pause. 

Olivia thought of a park bench many years in their past (when the roles were reversed, when she needed comfort and Peter provided it) as she laid her hand gently over his fists.  He inhaled sharply at her touch, but made no other indication that he was even aware of her presence.  

They sat mutely, the silence broken by faraway gunshots and alarms going off intermittently; the underlying hum of the city had been eliminated when running vehicles became scarce and curfews kept most people out of sight after dark.

His hands trembled under hers, but she kept still.  As much as she wanted to wrap her hands around his, wrap her arms around him and bury her head in his chest, she felt the wall between them was, once again, an insurmountable barrier.  Peter had been patiently taking it apart, brick by brick, since they’d been reunited; she knew she was as much responsible, if not more, for creating the distance between them, both physical and emotional, when they lost Etta.  _When they lost Etta the first time._

When he finally spoke, his voice was low and rough. “You should go on.  You and Walter and Astrid.”

Olivia didn't move, but glanced at him from the corner of her eye.  He hadn’t moved either – shoulders still slumped, head down.

“What are you talking about?” she hissed.  “Go on?  Go on where?  We’re not splitting up this time.”

Peter mumbled something Olivia couldn’t understand.  “What?” 

Silence.

“Peter, talk to me.”

“I said, it’s safer for you.”

Olivia snorted.  “That’s bullshit and you know it.   We need you, Peter.”    She knelt in front of him, balancing herself against his knees, and looked up at his face.  “I need you.”

“You don’t need me, Livia.  You’re better off without me.  I’m a liability.  They know me now.”

“They know all of us.  We – I can’t do this without you, Peter.”

“Find Anil.  Work with them.  They can help you more than I can.”

Even in the dim light, she could see his eyes were red-rimmed and there were streaks in the dust and blood that covered his face.  “Peter, what are you talking about?”

He laughed bitterly.  “She’s just like me.  Was…. Just like me.”  He pulled his hands away from hers and ran his fingers through his hair.  “She was ready to take them on right then – in the science building.  I told her there was a time for vengeance, but it wasn’t then.  I should’ve let her go at ‘em.”

“You know you did the right thing.  It would’ve gotten you both killed.”

For the first time that night, Peter looked directly at her.  He shrugged his shoulders in that familiar gesture, one Olivia had seen so many times over the years, and his face wore his “And your point is?” expression.

“Every time she needed me, I fucking failed her.” 

“You know that’s not true.  She knew it.  And if you failed her, then I did, too.”

“You don’t get to take the blame this time,” he said, as he pulled her back up to sit beside him.  “This one’s all on me, sweetheart.  I always fail the people I love.” 

Olivia closed her eyes.  Ever since the Observer read him, Peter had been discouraged, beaten down; and now, this was the voice of a man without hope, and it scared her.  Peter had always been her touchstone, always holding her up ever since that first week in the lab, when she went into Walter’s sensory deprivation tank. 

When he faced the Wave-Sync machine, she knew he was scared; she might’ve been the only one who saw that side of him, but he never wavered.  Even when she’d given up hope that their little girl was still alive, he kept looking.  He kept going, with an unending faith that he’d find her in the next town, the next refugee center.  He was always the one who never gave up, who always kept going, no matter what.

But when he told them about his experience with the Observer, there was an unfamiliar tone to his voice.  He no longer had that quiet confidence of knowing he was the smartest guy in the room; there was doubt, there was uncertainty, there was hesitation.

“I promised her…” His voice broke.

“What, Peter?” she spoke softly, leaning against him on the rock wall.

“I promised her they’d pay for what they’d done…  I promised… “

ooo

Astrid woke early, before daybreak.  Walter was still asleep, no doubt due to his latest concoction.  She didn’t know what he’d brought back from his Harvard lab, but he’d been sleeping like a baby ever since.  When she realized that she and Walter were the only two people there, she panicked momentarily and then began a methodical search of their area.

By the time Astrid reached the back of the building, the sun was barely up and the sky was still gray, with tinges of pink at the horizon.  She found them, still sitting on the retaining wall, Peter’s arm wrapped around Olivia’s shoulders, one brown head and one blonde bowed together. 

She closed the door softly and left them to meet the dawn. 

 

 


End file.
